One Day
by Kindle-Flower
Summary: A dabble series of Huey and Jasmine's lives as they grow, learn, hate and love each other. Told from the perspective of a single day through ever year of their lives. Inspired by the book with the same title. May update weekly. Rating may change later.
1. Age 10

This story was inspired by a book also titled _One Day_. Basically, it's about a man, a woman, and their lives all told from the same day every chapter. Every chapter is a new year on the same day. I chose August 24th for the "one day" of this story, simply for it being a non-holiday and not a birthday. Hope you enjoy.

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><p><strong>Age 10<strong>

Huey stood atop the hill overlooking the sleepy town of Woodcrest below. It was a typical middle-class, suburban neighborhood filled with white people who carried high hopes and a sensitive sort of blindness to the condition of the world they lived in. The young boy wondered how people could be fine living in their ignorance as they did below him. These thoughts often filled his mind in this place at the top of the hill. From up here, the rest of the world was small. He was the knowledgeable god, and they were his judgmental, petty subjects. Huey did not have a god complex, but he liked to think that if God existed, He thought the same things the mocha-skinned boy did. The wind suddenly stirred, as if God acknowledged the boy's thoughts and agreed with them. The air carried the slight scent of strawberries, and the silence was soon broken by the crunch of dry autumn leaves under tiny shoes.

The afro headed boy turned his attention from the city to his approaching friend. Her cinnamon curls were being tossed wildly in the wind as she pulled her thick pink jacket tighter across her small, thin frame. Emerald eyes glanced up to meet his wine colored ones, and a smile spread like a melting stream of pearls across her mulatto face.

"Hi, Huey," she greeted, breaking the silence.

Huey nodded in greeting, before responding as well. "Hi, Jasmine." She finished her joyous stroll up the hill before plopping down under the shade of the tree, sending a flurry of leaves every which way. The tree itself was beginning to sport a variety of warm colors, which almost seemed to contradict the chilly August breeze that blew through the young kids. Huey watched as Jasmine shivered. "If you're cold, you should go home."

"I don't want to," the mulatto pouted, sticking out her bottom lip for emphasis. "It's the last week before school starts, and I want to hang out with my friends!" She was right; it was August 24th, and school would begin for them soon. Fifth grade held no high prospects in Huey's mind. He decided to humor the girl for now, in hopes of inspiring her to leave sooner rather than later.

"If you want to hang out with people, then go back into town. Go find Cindy or Riley or whoever to play with, if you want a friend."

"But you're my friend, too!" Jasmine pointed out, giggling cheerily.

Huey rolled his eyes. He often wondered about that. Was he really Jasmine's friend? Well, she seemed to think so. She hardly ever left him alone, so between her presence, Granddad's griping, and Riley's shenanigans, he scarcely had a moment of peace. Beyond that, though, Huey wasn't naïve. He knew he was difficult to get along with. Unlike Jasmine, he put no real effort into their friendship. The mulatto was always the one initiating things between them, and half the time, her idea of 'fun' was something he found revolting or annoying. He humored her, partially out of pity in recognizing her loneliness and partially because… well, she was there.

He'd never admit it, but he, deep down, appreciated Jasmine for being there. She was someone to teach, and an ear that listened. She tried her best to be there for him when it mattered, and all she asked in return was that he did the same, and he complied with very little agitation, if any. It didn't matter that most of their time together was spent in silence or in the free time between the pages of his books. Huey supposed that loneliness was the thing that kept her by his side. For now, he'd relish that. Turning to face her, Huey gave her an intense stare. She was looking at the clouds, her demeanor light as a feather, as if she didn't have a care in the world.

"Yeah, I guess," he responded at last.

"Then as friends, we should hang out. Come on. Summer's almost over, then we'll have school and homework and curfews again." Picking herself up, she brushed off the leaves that were stuck to the butt of her fuzzy jacket. "I want to get ice cream."

Huey shook his head. "Isn't it a bit cold for that?"

"Naw, it's only windy. If we go now, though, we can make happy hour at the ice cream parlor in town. Hurry up, Huey!" Jasmine patted his jacket sleeve with two quick taps as she headed down the hill, arms out in a display of upper body support.

For a while, the boy just watched her. The question still seemed unanswered. Was she really his friend? Maybe she was just lonely and he was the only person willing to entertain her naïve fantasies. Or maybe she sensed the loneliness in him and made it her mission to drag him with her everywhere she went out of pity. Maybe they were both just a couple of stupid kids trying to outrun reality. Huey looked up at the sky again and thought about God. He noticed the cloud stream of a plane as it passed over, and realized that from that height, he couldn't even be seen. So maybe, if God existed, it wasn't looking down with disdain at them all. Perhaps they were all just going unseen, and had to chase happiness by themselves.

Shaking his head clear of those thoughts, Huey trotted down the hill after Jasmine, who had a strong gain on him, and was now sprinting for the pathway back to the city. Was she really his friend? Huey often told himself that hope was irrational. Still, he found himself silently hoping in his heart that the answer was yes anyway.

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><p>Reviews always welcome. See you next week.<p> 


	2. Age 11

I have a few chapters of this story already written out, and the story itself is all planned to the end as well. It's just a matter of publishing. Anyway, I decided to go ahead and publish this chapter for the sake of continuity. I will update this weekly, but every week, I might do 1-3 chapters, depending on how much I've written that week. So this story will have a crazy sort of update schedule. I'd like to to be that way, so I can get into the flow of things, and then get to publishing my other story ideas I have too, without worry of this one getting stale. Oh, and every chapter will flip from Huey's to Jasmine's perspectives as well. This one is about Jasmine.

I'd also like to thank everyone who's reviewed and read this story so far. I greatly appreciate it, and I really love getting reviews so I can see what you all think of this tale as it progresses. As an English major in college, I'm very well used to critiques, so please don't hesitate to give me your two cents on the story. :) For now, please enjoy this new chapter.

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><p><strong>Age 11<strong>

Jazmine eyed herself in the mirror, staring intently at her hair. It was straightened. Long strands of cinnamon orange caressed her neck and back, flowing like a river of twilight sun rays down her back. Her hair was long; it nearly touched the back of her thighs if she let it stay down. However, her mom had put it up in a high ponytail today, so it swayed to and fro against the small of her back. She whipped her head from side to side, watching with mesmerized eyes as the long bundle of strands fanned left and right behind her reflection. She smiled, giving a small huff of satisfaction as she headed out her bedroom door.

Today was going to be a good day, she decided. It was a mild, August day that was both sunny and warm. School would start soon, and Jazmine was excited. Her mom had fixed her favorite breakfast of strawberry pancakes that morning, and her dad had even left her $20 to go shopping later with Cindy. Jazmine wore her new pink twinkle toe sketchers, grinning madly whenever her eyes caught the way they sparkled with her every step. Technically, she wasn't supposed to wear her new kicks just yet, since they were part of her new school wardrobe. However, a puppy eyed display later, and her dad caved in, making her promise not to scuff them. Opening the front door, the mulatto glanced across the street to see her neighbor's oldest grandson cutting the grass. Turning on her 100-watt smile, Jazmine began the short trip over to greet him.

"Hi, Huey! What's up?" Jazmine cooed, a skip in her step as she made her way up the Freeman driveway.

"A lot of things, Jazmine. The sun, the clouds, the temperature… even Riley, if you want to count the fact that he's still asleep on the second floor," Huey replied, not even lifting his head to greet her. Jasmine rolled her eyes at Huey's mini rant.

"That's not what I meant at all, silly!" She laughed, her voice like a series of high pitched bells ringing in a good morning. _Oh, boy. He'll never change, will he? Typical, negative Huey._

"Then what did you mean?" Huey asked, finally lifting his eyes to see her. His wine colored orb seemed to freeze in time when they came into contact with her hair. Jasmine drew in a deep breath as she took in his reaction. His eyebrows rose and his eyes widened. His posture straightened and stiffened. A bevy of emotions flew by and between them as Jazmine twisted her foot at the heel, her once bright smile now an awkward stretch of muscle across her face. She kept her eyes on him, silently praying for a positive response. His eyes flickered for a few more moments before he at last chose his own responding emotion.

Disappointment.

Jazmine felt her smile falter. She knew she should've known Huey wouldn't like her hair like this. He was always droning on about how it wasn't really nappy. She even recalled him attempting to make a comparison between her hair and clouds, although she admittedly didn't get his reference until later that night when she was forking through her mashed potatoes at dinner and twirling her curls between her fingers. Out of habit, she reached up to stick a finger in her curls only to remember she currently had none. Her hand fell down from the side of her face, and her eyes shifted about trying to find something, anything else to look at other than the judgmental expression of the mocha-skinned boy in front of her.

"I meant… uh… d-do you like my hair?" It was a stupid question, but for some reason, the mulatto felt the need to confirm what she saw in her friend's face. She braced herself for his brutal honesty. Squeezing her eyes shut, she began the mantra she'd been practicing for the last year that she'd yet to master. She said this mantra every time these situations arose, which, unfortunately, was often.

_Don't cry, Jazmine. Don't cry. You're a big girl now; don't be a baby in front of him. Don't cry…_

"No." The answer was swift, short, and so very Huey. It carried no sentiment and no emotion; it was a plain response that only served to answer her question without giving any insight or significant clue to what the person behind the voice really thought. It was not said in disgust, nor was it uttered in hatred, rudeness, or disappointment. So why did that one word feel like it shot through and shattered her soul?

Jazmine took in a deep, shaky breath. Forcing her lips to curl upwards, the young girl defiantly turned towards her Afro-haired friend and huffed a breath. "Well, that's too bad. Mommy spent all last night straightening it, just for school next week. She thinks, with my hair like this, I'll definitely make a lot of friends."

"Make all the friends you want, Jazmine," Huey responded, turning his gaze away from her. She painfully noted that he seemed to do so with relief… or was it anger? "But if you're only going to make friends because you changed your hair, how do you think they'll feel when you're hair isn't straight? You're going to be telling them a lie, and they won't like it. They won't say it, because they're going to pretend to be your friend for as long as you look like them. But the moment they find out you're different, you'll be alone again. But hey, if that's what you really want…."

With that, Huey resumed his earlier task of cutting the grass, effectively shutting Jazmine out. The mixed child starred vacantly at him for a moment, in shock. Then, she stamped her foot against the pavement, grunting loudly in frustration. She bore her angry emerald eyes into the mocha-skinned boy's back, shooting mental daggers of disbelief and hurt. She could feel her face reddening and her eyes brimming with hot, salty tears. Blinking them away, she turned to leave. "You're such a jerk, Huey!"

Just like that, her morning was ruined. Dashing down the road, Jazmine pulled her arms tightly around her. She tried to will her tears away, but they refused to back down. Clamping her eyes shut, she pushed her legs faster and faster, aiming for Cindy's house. Cindy would comfort her, and tell her that her hair looked nice. Then they could go shopping and Jasmine could forget Huey's harsh words that always seemed to break the fragile skin of her naïve reality.

She felt her foot snag on a crack before she lost her balance and tumbled down on the side walk, skidding against the concrete. Her eyes flew open, and her hands shot out to catch herself, but she wasn't quick enough. She heard the jean material on her legs rip at the knee. Her mind registered a sharp, stinging pain. Jazmine rolled over on her back and lifted her torso up, so she was sitting on her butt with her knees up, inspecting them for damage. Blood caked the skin of her left knee where she'd hit the ground. It hurt. Then her still wet eyes caught sight of her shoes. A long, dirty grey scuff showed on the once white tip of her toe. Several of her blinking jewels had come off in the crash landing and lay a few feet away.

The tears she'd been trying so hard to hold back burst from her eyes like two dams had been bombed. Sobbing, she pulled her knees to her chin, wincing at the pain, before burrowing her head in the hollow of her legs and sobbing. Why did Huey have to be right? It wasn't fair. The mulatto girl cried for a minute more, before drying her face with the backs of her hands. She got up and limped somberly the rest of the way to Cindy's house.

Today was not a good day after all.

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><p>Life isn't always about the happy moments. See you next week, or update, whichever comes first. Reviews are greatly appreciated!<p> 


	3. Age 12

**Age 12**

"Jazmine, that is not how you throw a punch."

Huey shook his head, his Afro swaying around with the motion. His maroon eyes shone with boredom. Currently, he was eyeing his mulatto friend as she attempted once again to punch. He took note of her erratic form and useless flailing of fists in the air. He groaned. It was going to be a very long afternoon at this rate. Still, the young African-American boy had made a promise to his friend, and he was intending with all his power—and patience—to complete his task. Jazmine would know how to throw a proper hit before the end of the day, least he hang up his 3rd degree black belt for good.

It had started off as a request on her part. Middle school had proven rough for the mixed girl, particularly thanks to a butch brunette named Maggie. Maggie was 5' 6" and sixty pounds overweight with greasy dull brown hair and a pinched up, freckle matted face. This wasn't someone Huey would think his tiny, 4' 11", 110 pound friend would want to hang out with, but luck would have it that Jazmine was too sweet for her own good. Maggie took an interest to Jazmine, but when the mulatto finally opened her eyes to the fat girl's true intentions, she attempted to politely decline the budding lesbian's advances. That resulted in the poor girl getting slammed into a locker so hard her wrist was fractured. After that, the butch began a habit of harassing Jazmine whenever they were within fifty feet of each other.

Huey had done what he could to protect his naïve friend, but enough was enough. Jazmine, he decided, was a big girl, and she needed to fight her own battles. So after weeks of coaxing, convincing, and even threatening, the mocha-skinned boy finally had his companion on the hill with him, training in the art of karate. It was a stroke of unfortunate luck on both their parts that she was so bad at fighting, however.

"I'm trying the best I can!" Jazmine hollered, fanning her arm in wildly from the side. She lost her balance and nearly fell over on her face. Huey grunted in disbelief.

"No, you're not. You're being lazy with it. If you don't take this seriously, you'll just end up hurting yourself."

"And if I take it seriously, I'll just end up hurting other people!"

Huey sighed. He wanted to deny it, but she kind of had a point. Over the years, Jazmine had developed a fierce temper. More often than not, though, she had released her ornateness on him, usually when he went on of one of his lectures to her about all the problems of the world. Combined with the possibility of mastering a successful punch, Jazmine was liable to soon be able to curb stomp any fool stupid enough to test her temperament. That didn't mean Huey was going to give up so easily, though.

"Jazmine," he called calmly. His tone was soft but firm. The mulatto stopped her wild arm tantrum and turned her green orbs to his dark brown ones, giving him her full attention. "This isn't about hurting other people. This is about knowing how to protect yourself. You can't honestly think that I'm always going to be there to do this for you. Something may happen to you on a day I'm not around, and you'll be left to fend for yourself. You need to learn what to do and how to do it to prepare yourself for those situations. It's for your own good that you learn this."

Looking away, the preteen boy gazed down at the sleepy town below them. A chilled, late summer breeze swept over them and cascaded down the hill to pass through the city. He could hear the cars honking their horns and the general noise associated with suburban life. Below him were a million people that didn't matter. Next to him was one.

"So, what, are you trying to get rid of me?" his friend quipped, annoyance lacing her voice. Huey knew she didn't mean it; he probably just hurt her feelings again. Glancing back at her from the corner of his eye, he saw her standing erect with her long arms crossed haughtily across her flat chest.

_At least she isn't crying. _

"I want you to learn how to fight so you can be independent. So you can know what to do in case I'm not there. So I don't have to worry about you whenever you say 'bye' and walk away in the opposite direction. " And worry he did. He cringed when he saw Jazmine walking home with bruises. He wanted to stop Maggie and all the other girls that picked on Jasmine, but it was out of his hands to do anything. This was the next best option. Why was she being so stubborn? "This isn't about power. I know how to do all this, and you don't see me hurting a bunch of people. You can control your power only after you learn how to use it. Mr. DuBuois even agrees that this is good for you. So stop complaining and learn. The sooner you do, the sooner you can go home."

"You worry about me?" Jazmine asked. He could see the lights of curiosity and something else flicker across her expression. He ignored the latter before he put a name to it.

"Of course that's the only part of my statement you noticed," Huey shook his head again, muttering with a sigh. "Yes, I worry. Now will you pay attention so I can teach you this and we can go home before it gets dark?"

Jazmine giggled, her face lighting up brightly in response. Somehow, he'd made her day. Huey was pleased with himself, though his stoic expression didn't so much as budge to show it.

"Okay! What's the stance again?" Jazmine flickered her eyes between her feet and Huey, her attention completely on him as she awaited instruction.

"Pull your feet apart and squat down. Place your balance in your knees so your back is erect. And keep your fists at your waist with your elbows locked," as he instructed her, Huey prepared his own stance. The mulatto copied him verbatim.

"Like this?"

"Yes. Now, when you punch, start with your fist facing palm up. Throw it out straight, and twist your arm with the thrust. It's the twist that gives it the extra power. Remember to hit with your knuckles to lessen the pain on your hand." The young afro samurai demonstrated his technique in slow motion after his explanation. When he was sure Jazmine had seen it step for step, he repeated the blow, going at lightning speed. Whipping his fist in the air several times, Huey displayed to his friend the power of a properly thrown punch.

Jazmine blinked rapidly at the sight—or lack thereof—of his thrust. He saw her gulp, as if she was finally registering just how strong he was. Huey briefly wondered if he was subconsciously gentle with Jazmine, or if she really never noticed his power. He stopped after a few more punches, nodding to Jazmine for her to give it a try. The mulatto stared down at her own fists with uncertainty, then glanced back up at him. He gave her a nod of encouragement.

She drew in a breath and sank into the pose with grace and ease. Her eyes fluttered closed for a few seconds before snapping open in a fierce display. Crying out a karate call, she threw her fist forward, pistol whipping the air with a loud pop.

A mad grin broke out on her face as she looked up at Huey. "I did it! I threw a punch! Right?!"

Smirking, Huey gave her a slow nod. "Yeah. That looked good. You got it."

"Yay!" Jazmine shrieked with excitement, jumping up and pumping both her fists in the air.

"Keep practicing now. The more you practice, the better you'll get."

"Got it!" she responded, slumping back into the ready position. Huey eyed her as she threw several more punches. For the most part they were good. He instructed her on how to turn her body for maximum effect and pivoting her foot for longer reach. Jazmine soaked up all his words and techniques like a sponge, eager and excited to learn. He suspected that she more enjoyed pleasing him than actually learning to defend herself. All the better. With each successful throw, his worries for her were blown away.

They trained the rest of the day until the late summer sun sank below the tree lined horizon.

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><p>...I got off work early today, so ta da, new chapter. By the way, I took taekwondo as a child, so that is, more or less, how I was taught to throw a punch. I like to use life context when writing, so as to keep things accurate.<p>

Reviews greatly appreciated as always. Until next time.


	4. Age 13

Every week I said. Here we go.

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><p><strong>Age 13<strong>

She didn't mean to yell at him or call him a racist pig. She certainly didn't mean it when she slapped him across the face after he grabbed her wrists. She knew he was only trying to get her to see the truth. Or maybe, he was trying to apologize for once. She doubted the latter, but all the while knew that he cared. She was just tired of getting her feelings hurt.

Sobbing into her beige hued pillow, Jazmine recalled the argument she'd had with Huey just hours earlier. She had gone over to the Freeman's house to play. Riley was engrossed in one of his violent video games, shooting random people in the streets. Huey was doing his verbatim hobby of reading. Jazmine was bored with the everyday conundrum the boys did, and decided to change it up. Ripping the book from Huey's fingers, she opened the floor for a new game of chase. The Afro clad boy's participation was solely due to the fact that she had so brashly and ignorantly destroyed his peace, but his participation was all she really craved.

Still, he could've gone without tackling her to the ground.

Riley laughed at her failed attempt to catch his brother's attention, but Jazmine, at the time, only saw the failure and resulting laughter of the younger sibling to her friend as a new challenge to be accepted. Tug of war ensued. The two age matched friends wrestled for the book, each tugging with all their might in the opposite direction. How was she to know that this particular book was Huey's favorite? How did he expect her to realize it carried more significance to him than any of the other leather bound stacks of paper he kept upstairs in his room, neatly organized on his mahogany shelf? It's not like he ever adamantly expressed favoritism for anything, let alone something as so silly as an old, dirty, dog-eared and outdated book. So when the book ripped clean down the middle, sending both teenagers flying into the corners of the living room, Jazmine hooted with laughter, and remained, for that moment, blissfully unaware of the damage she'd caused.

She recalled staggering to her feet, still shaking with amusement, then looking into the ravenous eyes of her best friend. Huey didn't display too many emotions, but anger was one she was familiar with. Usually, it was directed towards other people, and, on occasion, on her behalf when one of the other kids at school picked on her. Jazmine was so used to the mocha-skinned boy's rare outbreaks that she even dedicated names to the levels of his anger. Right at that moment, she saw maroon colored lava. It killed her laugh track with a shock of cold sweat that made her spine and neck tingle in fear. She gulped, and attempted to prepare herself for the eruption.

"You destroyed my book." Huey's voice was eerily calm. Jazmine didn't like it.

"Technically, we both did," she supplied, lifting a slightly shaky finger towards the African-American teenager's own hands, which still held the other half of the old book.

"What is wrong with you?" Huey asked, the calm still there. He was cracking, and she could see it. The mulatto knew it was important to choose her words wisely. A quick glance over to Riley told her that the younger brother would be no help. The cornrowed pre-teen was silent between them, his noticeably calmer maroon eyes shifting curiously and warily between his companions. Jazmine inhaled deeply before responding.

"I just wanted your attention. You're always reading and—"

"Then you should've said something! Not rip apart my book like that!" Huey spat. She could tell he wasn't in the mood for her excuses. "Why do you always have to be so annoying?! You don't see me tearing apart your shit whenever I'm bored! If you find me so boring, why not just go and play with your other little white friends? I'm sure they'll be more than happy to put up you're your craziness."

"Hey—"

"You never respect my privacy. It's always about what you want." Apparently, Huey needed to get a lot of things about their friendship off his chest. Jasmine clamped her mouth shut, suffering in silence. She willed away the tears as he continued his verbal assault. "Just like all the other white people in this goddamned neighborhood. You don't pay attention to anything! I try to teach you, but apparently, you're just too stupid to get it—"

At that, Jasmine snapped. She could handle a lot of things, but being called stupid was not one. "I am not stupid! So what if I'm white?! It's just a stupid book! What are you getting so upset over?!"

"It's not just about the book, Jazmine!" Huey growled. "It's about respecting property and space. You constantly violate mine with your shenanigans, and I'm tired of it."

"But you're my best friend! You never want to hang out with me, so I have to do these things to get your attention!" Jasmine explained. The tears were dreadfully close to falling.

"You have to destroy my books to get my attention? Jazmine, that's the dumbest thing I ever heard. You're thirteen now; act like it."

"It's just a dumb book!"

"It is NOT a dumb book! My dad gave me this book and you ruined it!"

At that, Jazmine was dumbfounded. She had no response. She hadn't realized she destroyed something so precious. It just looked like an old book to her, but it held value she couldn't even begin to imagine for the young revolutionary. She sensed she was in trouble. Scratch that, her entire friendship with Huey was at stake here. Sucking in air to generate a response, she opened her mouth to say something, anything.

"Well, then… I…" Would an apology fix this? Jazmine doubted it. Huey glared at her with a ferocity unmatched by any teenager Jazmine knew. She couldn't hold it in anymore. The hot, wet, and salty tears fell from her eyes. The mocha-skinned boy's own eyes reflected no sympathy for her.

"Do you really think crying is going to change this? God, you're such a baby."

"I'm not a baby! I didn't mean to damage your book!"

"Well, it's too late for that, Jazmine. I don't have time for this," Huey sighed, heading back to the couch. Riley seemed to have disappeared. Jazmine vaguely recalled him sneaking off during the climax of their argument.

"You never have time for me! You always say mean things to me! Why can't you just admit you can't stand me because I'm half white?! That's your real problem, isn't it! You said so yourself!" Those weren't the words she meant. She was just hurt, and didn't want to apologize and admit the boy was right… again. Huey had to be at fault for some of this. If he didn't want to be her friend, he could use that blunt honesty of his to tell her so. He never seemed to have a problem telling her off otherwise. Why was she even friends with him?

"I don't have a problem with your race, Jazmine—"

"Yes, you do! You racist pig!" And with that, the mulatto stormed off for the door. She heard the Afro haired boy jump from the couch and stomp after her. She figured she was in for another yelling match. Maybe he'd call her names like the other kids did at school. Maybe he'd hit her. She felt him grab her wrist.

It was a fluid motion, an instant response. Whipping around with the force Huey used to pull her back, Jazmine launched her hand across the air. Her palm connected with his cheek. An echo of flesh to flesh contact broke the brooding silence between them. Huey's face slowly reddened from the force of her attack. His grip on her wrist slipped, and she pulled back to stare at her handiwork.

Jazmine's emerald green eyes widened in the shock of her actions. Huey didn't look at her, but he didn't need to. His body language spoke for itself. Shoulders slumped, hands at his side, she heard her best friend sigh in defeat.

"…Whatever."

She hadn't said anything. She just watched as the teenage boy made his way back to the living room, bending only to pick up the other half of the book she dropped when she made her initial attempt to leave. The tears were still falling when Jazmine turned away and headed out the door.

That had been hours ago, and Jazmine had spent the time crying in her room. Her tears had stopped some minutes ago, and her raspy cries had slowed to a short series of hiccups. Lifting her head, she peered out her window to the house across the streets. The curtains were drawn on the second story, so she couldn't see in. Jazmine lifted herself, wiping her runny nose with the back of her hand. She had to make things right.

Heading to her nearly bare bookshelf, she selected one of the few books she had and quickly made her way out of her room, down the stairs, and out her front door. She knew she had to do this now, before she lost the nerve and her best friend all together.

Shakily, she approached the door, and rang the bell, the book laid flat and tightly against her chest. Robert Freeman answered the door pleasantly, but she paid him no mind. Instead, she zipped past the elderly man and made her way up the stairs to the shared room of the boys. With no hesitation, she flung the door open.

Huey sat on the bed, starring off into space. He barely flinched at the mulatto's sudden presence. His eyes casually rolled over to set their sights on her panting form as she took cautious steps into the half messy room.

"What do you want, Jazm—"

"I'm sorry," she sputtered. "I didn't mean to ruin your book. I was being selfish, and I'm sorry."

Huey sat up in the bed. She stared into his eyes. They were guarded at first, but after a moment, softened. She felt her heartbeat quicken slightly at the sight.

"…I'm sorry, too. I shouldn't have said those things to you. I meant it when I said I didn't care about your race. You being white has nothing to do with anything."

"I know," Jasmine replied, finishing her journey across the room and to the young revolutionary's bed. "Here."

Thrusting the book forward, Jazmine dropped her gift into the boy's lap. She saw him glance down, and take up the book in his hands. His eyebrow rose with a curious tone shining in his wine-colored depths. "_Song of Solomon_ by Toni Morrison," he stated, reading the title out loud.

"It probably can't replace the book your dad gave you. And it's not an autobiography or revolutionary or anything. But it's by a Black lady, and… I liked it a lot. So… um…. I'm giving it to you. As an apology."

Jazmine watched as the boy in front of her lifted his eyes to hers. So many emotions swam inside them both as the moment of silence stretched on. Jazmine held her breath, eagerly and nervously awaiting a response. Finally, Huey nodded.

"Thanks." He opened the book and skimmed the first page briefly before glancing up at the now smiling mixed girl. "Want to hang out for a bit?"

"Sure," she breathed, happy the worst was behind them.

She didn't understand his attachment to books, but Jazmine figured there was something to learn here. She just hoped that this book could form a new connection with Huey between them, like the now taped together old leather back had done before between the revolutionary and a father he could only remember.

* * *

><p>...Eh. I'm not 100% fond of this chapter, but it is what it is. See you next update.<p> 


	5. Hiatus, sort of

Hi everyone.

Kindle here.

I just wanted to apologize for the lack of updates to this story. It's been a very stressful few months for me. School and work aside, I ended up getting seriously ill and was in the hospital a couple of days as a result. I'm fine now, but I've been very focused on my health and school, since I'm in my last year of college before I graduate. So… yes, very busy am I. However, I will be continuing this story and creating new ones in some upcoming months. I'm just on hiatus, from both here and my DeviantART for the next 6-8 months as I prepare myself for the comeback. When I do get back to publishing, I should have all the necessary measures I need to complete this story and all my other projects.

I'd like to thank you all for the reviews and favorites you've given me in the meantime. They do mean a lot to me, and I read every single one of them. Please continue to be patient and look forward to my comeback with this story. I do have the whole thing planned out, so my course of action as to where this story goes and how it will end is already set in stone for me. I won't give spoilers, but I hope you're prepared for an emotional roller coaster ride!

That being said, I'll return to writing in the summer, when I'm fully recovered and graduated! I'll see you all then! Feel free to PM me any time, though; I'm always happy to talk to people! Keep on truckin', baby!

-Kindle


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